Great Basin National Park

An alternative title:  That post with a million pictures.

(National Parks are photogenic.)

Adam and Mark and I went to Great Basin National Park on Saturday.  To say that I went under duress would be overstating things but to say I was enthusiastic would be inaccurate as well.  I was somewhere between those two.

Because of Lehman Caves.

I don't like caves.

And we were going to one.

"But, why?" I (possibly) whined.

The drive was beautiful.  Here's a shot taken while driving through Delta, UT, home of the Rabbits.  (Adam knows small town Utah high school mascots because of refereeing basketball.)

The scenery across the desert was lovely and stark and dramatic.

Here's our first peek of Wheeler Peak (see what I did there?):

The first thing we did at the park was go to the cave which was a good idea because I wanted to get it over with.

Here we are waiting outside for our tour to start:

Do I look stressed out?  Because I was stressed out.

My shirt said happy on it and I told Adam and Mark that after I died in the cave, I wanted them to look at my shirt and think, "There.  Are you happy now?"

I wore my Nevada necklace because we were in the Silver State!

For a lot of the cave, I just concentrated on breathing and not freaking out.  It was also amazingly beautiful.  When we walked through some of the more narrow parts, I would walk behind Adam with Mark behind me and I figured if I died, at least I would be sandwiched between two people I love.

These pictures are ones Adam took in the cave:

This picture gives me anxiety.  It is looking up when we were in one of the narrow passages.

After we were out of the cave, under the blessed sky, I told Adam I was glad I had gone in the cave and appreciated him for pushing me outside my comfort zone.

He asked, "Would you do it again?"

No.

We ate our picnic lunch and took pictures of the beautiful surroundings:

It was a little windy...the good news is that now I know what to dress as for Halloween, Sam the Sheepdog.

"Good morning Sam."

"Good morning Ralph."

We hiked to the Bristlecone Pine Grove.  Every Nevadan worth their salt knows that is the state tree but I had never seen one in person maybe because they grow so high up mountains.  (Liberty's boyfriend, who grew up in Winnemucca, came to dinner last night.  We were showing them some pictures from our trip and he said, "That's the state tree, right?"  I immediately loved the kid.)

It wasn't a necessarily long hike or even that steep but we were over 10,000 feet and felt the lack of oxygen.  Also, the trail was super rocky and had lots of tree roots across it so you had to be careful not to turn your ankle.

Mark clamored ahead of us as we slogged along behind him.  He kept telling me encouraging things and I kept wondering how important bristlecone pines were anyway.

When we got to the top and Mark saw the sign indicating we had reached our destination, he ran ahead.  I told him, "This is why people don't like you, Mark."

It reminded me of when we walked the Freedom Trail in Boston and were all exhausted.  When we got to the Boston Commons, Mark ran across the grass to go climb on the playground.

No idea where he gets all his energy.

But the bristlecone pines!  I loved them!  Definitely worth the hike.

I could have taken pictures of their sculptural textured beauty all day.  (I know what you're thinking...it looks like I did.)  They were pretty amazing.  They are the oldest living organism--some of them are over 3000 years old.  Since they grow in such harsh conditions, they grow really slowly and they are really strong.  Even after they die, they stay intact because the wood is so hard.

I love this beautiful varied world we live in.

On the drive off the mountain, Adam stopped so I could take pictures of the orange and red aspens.

Why are some of them orange and red instead of just golden yellow?  Adam said, "Isn't it because of the sugar or something?"

"But why?  Did they eat all their Halloween candy at once?"

In case it isn't already clear, Adam and I are pretty much botanists.

We pulled over at the state border so Adam could check what was rattling in the car.  If there's anything that man can't abide, it's a rattle in the car.

Eying the sign for slot machines, he said, "Here's the last chance to take a chance."

We didn't take the chance, just headed home.

In every little town we drove through, Adam asked if we wanted to stop for dinner but Mark wanted to press on until Cracker Barrel.

So we did.

I drove the rest of the way home from Springville and Mark made a playlist (like he does).  It started with Uptown Funk followed by Mexican Radio, followed by REM, Gypsy Kings and Frank Sinatra.

Sometimes I just love everything about Mark.  (Even when he runs ahead when any decent person ought to be exhausted.)

I also love Adam and the adventures he infuses into our lives.  He always wants to take the scenic route and I love being by his side.